


I Keep On Losing (only for you)

by jewelsofnight



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Middle of the Night Sex, Neil is slightly bratty, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Reunion Sex, Sexual Content, but he's struggling and wants to unwind, emotional smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22863040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelsofnight/pseuds/jewelsofnight
Summary: Living alone in California had Neil’s head spinning by the 3rd month.--in which Neil hasn't seen Andrew in 3 months, and the loneliness is getting to his head
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 30
Kudos: 202





	I Keep On Losing (only for you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chryseos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryseos/gifts), [scribbleb_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribbleb_red/gifts), [djhedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/gifts), [shinshin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinshin/gifts), [alex_wh0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/gifts), [psych0midget (cominupforair)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cominupforair/gifts).



> This is for my wonderful friends, who always have amazing ideas and love to make foxpiles. I know it's past Valentine's day, but I sadly couldn't finish it until now.
> 
> (this is an AU where Neil and Andrew are childhood friends, fall in love, and defeat and escape the mob)

Living alone in California had Neil’s head spinning by the 3rd month. The perpetual state of stickiness and itchiness he felt wasn’t just because of the San Francisco weather – he was paranoid. Andrew was on another coast, and he hadn’t seen him since they’d slipped his father and ran. It’s not like he wanted to leave him, but nowhere was safe. He’d tried to stay with him in Boston, but one look at his scars and people were saying ‘Wesninski Junior’ before they even said hello. People called him Nathan’s son, even with contacts to cover his cursed paternal blue eyes, even with the hair dye and smaller stature. 

– Nathaniel was infamous.

So he was Neil now; known by only a few people, Neil was someone he had been hiding inside for years to maintain his sanity. Now he was free from the rage, fear, and panic that happened when people called him Nathaniel, because Nathaniel was someone else, and he was supposed to be dead. It was nearly the best possible outcome. (The best one would have Andrew by his side immediately, his father’s goons dead or vanished into the aether forever)

Knowing he could be laid up with Andrew soon had hope unfurling tentatively in his heart, fragile and strange like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. He was inexperienced at it, stumbling around like a baby deer with this feeling inside, and this loss of control had him spiralling in strange ways that couldn’t be helped. The worst days were supposed to be over, but it was as though Andrew’s leaving had taken out the linchpin in his sanity. The feelings jerked and tugged him around the San Francisco streets like a ghost at night, and kept him moody in bed till the afternoon. His guard was up, but it was guarding nothing. He was a mess.

It wasn’t just some fluttery feelings – he’d contained feelings that were harder to hide than those in the past. There were also the nightmares that spawned days where he could recall every phantom from Baltimore, seeing the good days and bad days flash before his eyes all at once. He could see himself walking through the park with his mother on an autumn day, and the rusty, blood-stained drain in the basement in the next second. A cleaver glinting as it descended through the air, a lighter clicking, and his mother plating up a sandwich for him on a shiny, white plate. A deathly quiet house on a summer day, and Mary’s makeup lying cracked in the bin after Nathan had raged. With the first brushes of the night wind through his hair, he felt ghostly hands fisting the strands, hauling him around.

On nights like these, it hit him especially hard; nights when the streets were empty and the lights were all on inside, like people had places to be and people to be with. When the yelling from around some street corners sounded like the kids he went to highschool with and more often like the ones he didn’t – the ones who were surly and defensive, games stalled so they could stare him down when his father’s fancy cars would drive past them in their shabby courts.

A lighter clicked and Neil snapped his head towards the sound, feeling torn between several different places and times. He couldn’t shake himself out of it, not when being awake felt the same as being asleep and the nightmares stood beside him on the street, or sat on his chest when he slept.

It was just an old man, lighting up outside of the corner store. Neil looked him over but only found a rumpled jacket over a stained shirt, old sweatpants, and a defeated stance. No threats, and nobody else around. Neil dropped his own cigarette and ground it out – it wasn’t working anyway, nothing about the scent was keeping him tethered. Neil contemplated the wet, orange sky, considered the night a lost cause, and then left the street corner. It was time to go home and fail to sleep.

That was the plan, at first, before he noticed the sound. The humming of a car moving slowly, a sound he’d automatically adjusted to and lost track of. But for the past few blocks, turns and all, it’d been there. He glimpsed it as he turned a corner, a black and nondescript car with the front lights off and windows tinted. It was a vision of terror for a runaway. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and alertness flooded into him with swiftness. Suddenly, everything was sharp and had the potential to hurt him. His feet were running to the closest of 3 street exits within a second, and his mind narrowed to the singular thought of escaping.

He walked in some places, ducked into alleys when he saw the same car prowling in some streets, and made a run for his motel when the crowd was thick and he’d lost it 15 minutes before. His heart was in his ears, making his hands shake so hard he had to stuff them into his hoodie pocket to keep them still. San Francisco was bust, apparently, and he could just hope they hadn’t found Andrew. Oh god. His knees nearly buckled as old fears and new fears surged up to become one horrifying beast. The smell of his mother’s perfume washed over with gasoline was everywhere.

But he’d made it to the road with his motel, and this was his chance. He already had his duffle with him, but he was hoping to get to his safe if the coast was clear, and then make a run for it. The car park was blessedly empty, and there were only two neighbours who he recognised sitting out on a step at the far end, while his room was the last one, right on the corner. It was covered on the other side by a small, concrete shed, and an alley squished between the two. The door was so close, but he was never that lucky. He couldn’t just be lucky.

A figure shot out from the corner of his eye, darting towards him. Neil side-stepped, reflexes sharp despite the languor of California dragging him down. His opponent was quicker though, and had the breath knocked out of him in a second. Neil found his face pressed against the cool brick of the alley, submerged in complete darkness. The person holding him had a hand pressed to his neck, one of his wrists pressed to his own back, and a boot digging painfully into the soft spot just under the back of his knee. Neil struggled anyway, knowing he’d been caught in worse places and not ready to die yet.

But then the hand moved. It went from the back of his neck to the front, up to his jaw in a predatory caress, and turned his head.

Neil almost blue-screened. His body went slack, but the boot and hand still had him up. He closed his eyes and felt a scream claw its way up his throat, but what came out was a sob instead.

“Andrew.”

The hands released him, but caught him a second later. He thrashed and pushed him away to look at him.

“What the fuck, Andrew, you stupid fucking asshole!”

Andrew stood there blankly, watching Neil almost hyperventilate because of him.

It was infuriating and it hurt; there was no need for distance anymore, so why was Andrew all the way over there? Neil shoved him. It was just the lightest touch to his left shoulder, but Andrew let himself be crowded up against the opposite wall, almost chest-to-chest.

“You’re rusty,” Andrew said. “I chose not to tail your ass into those alleys, did you really think you’d have gotten away so easily otherwise?”

The words were confusing for a second, but then he remembered the car. The whole situation clicked for him, and then filled him with a wild anger born of fear. 

“That was you? What the fuck? Do you get a rise out of scaring the shit out of me?”

Not even a twitch. No smirk, no smile. He was unflappable and bored.

“I was testing you. I left you alone for 3 months on another coast, and you went soft?”

He was right, and that’s why the words stung. It hadn’t felt like it had been in Neil’s control – nothing did anymore. The anger had burnt him up inside, and now it was cooling and draining. Neil felt the desperate urge to run or scream.

He ducked his head, and furiously whispered, “I hate you.”

Andrew flipped them, pinning Neil in place with a dead stare and a hand on his shoulder. There was a clinical distance between them that made Neil want to push, to test it and get some kind of reaction. To have Andrew push him back just as hard, even harder, a real sensation for Neil to latch on to. He didn’t dare move though, knowing those destructive urges by name and face now. He wouldn’t give in to them, no matter how much he was breaking apart.

“I hate you more,” Andrew ground out. 

He squeezed tight once, then released his grip from the scruff of Neil’s hoodie to explore his face. The touch was assessing but tender, so soft it barely registered, but Neil felt it like a rasping breath across his face. It traced a path from his hair to his temple, down to his lips and his jaw. Andrew leaned in, hazel eyes flicking from Neil’s eyes to his lips, down to his body, indecisive or overwhelmed.

He stepped back to breathe. The vestiges of the urges Neil had felt earlier vanished, snuffed out by a cool breeze. Sudden relief poured over him like cool water, a mix of happiness and sadness. He slumped back against the wall, finding it difficult to stand. Andrew joined him by his side, radiating warmth. The proximity was like wine, it made him heady the more they had. Andrew looked unharmed and perfect, nothing like the day they’d parted a few months ago with bloody hands and desperate promises.

“Is this real?” Neil whispered, daring only to throw him a quick glance. He was scared of this vision evaporating, knowing his sanity wouldn’t survive it.

Andrew silently drank Neil in, jaw clenched and eyes flinty. When words failed, he pulled a cigarette out and lit up, blowing the smoke into Neil’s face. It was obnoxious enough to be real. Neil grabbed the sleeve of Andrew’s jacket and pulled his hand forward, letting it rest like a weight on the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes and took his first breath in 3 months. It felt like a cure.

“Andrew,” he breathed.

“Neil,” Andrew replied, voice rough. The blankness in his voice that had given way to toughness finally yielded. Andrew’s voice splintered and then stumbled over his name, like a broken plea that filled all of Neil’s cracks with gold. That sound would echo in his head for months, the way he’d said it and held Neil to him like he was one of his own limbs. It gave wings to a special warmth inside Neil, which flew all the way up to his head. He smiled, open and free. 

“Yes or no?” Neil asked, honeyed over.

Andrew’s voice strained like it was reaching for him. “Yes.”

And then they were kissing, and Neil had never felt more like himself. He wasn’t caught between disjointed memories of his past; he was Neil now, and those memories had a place in a time that was long gone. Good memories flashed behind his eyes, like every burning kiss and half-moon marks in the palm of his hands where he’d clenched too tight from pleasure, or hazel eyes behind a flickering fire.

Andrew pushed him hard into the wall, so real and solid as Neil arched against him. He slid a calloused hand down Neil’s hip, torturous and hot, rounding his thigh to reach his ass. It wrenched a groan out of him, skin tingling where he’d been touched, gasping as hot, calloused fingers snagged in a rip in the back of his jeans. It was a shock on his bare skin, lighting up all the nerve endings there. Neil couldn’t help but reach down to grasp Andrew’s forearm, not stopping him but letting him know exactly what effect the touches had on him. The fingers climbed his leg under the jeans, rubbing the join of his thigh to his ass, a fever-touch in places Neil had rarely been touched.

It was pure desire coursing through him that had Neil jerking and rolling down into Andrew’s hand, which was becoming more forceful the more responsive and unruly he was. Neil was happy to take the blame, knowing full well what consequences were coming for him.

“Andrew,” Neil gasped, turning his head away from the searing kisses.

He leaned down to plant more kisses along Andrew’s neck, firm enough to not feel ticklish. It earned him a shudder and a tighter, warning grip on his ass and the side of his hip. He grinned but kept going, slowing down to a teasing pace. When he tucked his head under Andrew’s jaw and breathed in the familiar scent of his aftershave, he knew he’d finally made a crack in that impassive exterior. 

Andrew’s breath hitched and he moved like he was helpless to it, pressing his hips to Neil’s just slightly before pulling away, hand slipping up and then back down his side. He knew it would get him in trouble, but Neil couldn’t help the wild and fierce grin on his face. It didn’t go unnoticed, and in response he got his thigh hitched up, only to be pinched on the sensitive skin there right under his ass. The sting went places, tightening the tangle of heat in his stomach and groin. He was hard, and he could feel Andrew’s hard-on pressed against his own thigh.

He kissed Andrew again for good measure, open-mouthed and messy, hands in his hair. 

“Take me inside,” he groaned, head falling back against concrete. The fingers rubbing the inside of his thigh had him feeling hot and secure, but the sensation was also driving him insane. “Andrew, I missed you so much.”

Andrew shut him up with a hard, promising kiss.

-

“We are not fucking here,” Andrew said. His face was almost blank, but there was a disgusted curl to his lip.

“Shit,” Neil said. 

He hadn’t exactly been expecting guests – there wasn’t a huge mess, but the takeaway containers, drink cans, and ever-present dampness on the edges of the barren room were very uninviting. He’d also hissed at Andrew for turning the lights on, ruining the blonde’s good mood. He’d taken to leaving the curtains open at night and the lights off, hating the way the artificial, bright light felt at night. He wasn’t sure if his sanity could handle the blurring between night and day like that, but Andrew wasn’t aware of his new pathology.

“A man can only have so many issues, Abram,” Andrew had said. There was no censure, but Neil knew he wasn’t going to stick around for this specific mess, so he’d relented.

It made his heart pound, being inside at night with the lights on and the curtains closed. Looking at his messy, barren nest of a temporary home made his throat close up, so he mentally decided on leaving this sad place behind forever. The motel manager would probably be delighted to see him gone, the creepy old fucker. He strode over to the cupboard beside the sink and retrieved his things from his safe, and then picked up the few pieces of laundry and toiletries left. The whole time, Andrew stood by the door and watched him patter about, not willing to come in properly now that they were leaving. 

They were out in 5 minutes, seated in the black rental Andrew had picked up. Neil drummed his fingers on his thigh, watching the street signs pass to figure out where they were going. It was quite late, and none of the beaten up, sagging motels they’d passed looked appealing. Andrew hadn’t even looked their way once, like he hadn’t even considered them. It was likely he’d never even had the thought, no – that was all Neil and the mindset he’d picked up from his brief runaway phase with his mother. Andrew Minyard may have crawled out of the gutter, but he was expensive as hell.

This was proven when they pulled up to a gated hotel with towering trees, spilling flowers, and a golden sheen emanating from the metal and glass building. It wasn’t the most expensive hotel around, but it was certainly finer than what Neil felt prepared for. The people at the desk would probably turn him away, with his faded, baggy clothes. Neil figured they might not take a huge wad of cash as payment, and the thoughts of Lola and his father’s inner circle that he had put to rest came to the forefront again.

A warm hand on the back of his neck interrupted his thoughts.

“Neil.”

He unclenched his fists.

“They’ll find us, Andrew –”

“They’re all dead.”

Neil stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Dead,” he mouthed. “All of them?”

“Dead. Gone to the bad place. This conversation can wait till the morning,” Andrew said. “I wouldn’t be here unless each of those bastards were in the ground.”

There was no inflection in his voice, simply a ground out monotone. But Neil had never wanted to kiss him more. A surge of happiness had him moving, undoing his seatbelt and reaching for his bag already. A pale hand stopped him.

“You are not bringing your mess in there.”

“What am I going to wear then? All my stuff is in here.”

“They’re going to think you broke in, or that you’re a homeless person being kidnapped if they see you with that.”

“Well sorry for not thinking about my image, Andrew, it’s not like I was trying to hide from the mob. Oh, wait.”

“Enough,” Andrew said, though there was no force or command – it was simply weary. “You can wear my things until we get you something decent. You cannot blend in with that.”

That was all it took for Neil to deflate. He knew Andrew was right, but he hated being made to throw his things away. They were ugly, oversized, and some of them were even a bit tattered, but it was his decision to do away with them. Not anyone else’s.

His door opened, and the air that flooded in was humid on the edges. It curled around him and lifted his senses, clearing the haze of lust and exhaustion. They were much closer to the water, and Neil was grateful they couldn’t see or hear it at least. He got out of the car, feeling more naked than ever without his duffle.

After the first glance, the people at the front desk studiously averted their eyes. The tattiness of his thin, worn clothes had no place next to the shiny finishes of the hotel, and looked nothing like Andrew’s expensive button down, jeans, and shiny boots. He vaguely thought of the girls he saw when he was on the run, with their hollow stares, shuffling behind strange men in hotels and motels, coming and leaving like ghosts with their thin clothes, their services and their cash. He strode to walk next to Andrew instead of behind him, but Neil thought his image may be a lost cause to these people. The single bed suite they’d booked had sealed his fate anyway.

Andrew still wouldn’t fuck him when they got to the room. He got a few tepid minutes of kissing against the door, and then he was pushed towards the bathroom and told to wash up. After a warm shower and a plate of fruit cut up for him, Neil was sitting in the blue TV light on the bed, waiting for Andrew to exit the bathroom himself. He breathed in the scent of soap and cologne on the soft sweater he’d stolen from Andrew, along with a pair of stretchy boxers. His old clothes had been dumped by the entryway.

Lying against the plush pillows and thick, white duvet, he felt fluffy and soft – cared for in a way he didn’t even care for himself. It wasn’t just the room, the fruit, and the clothes, no. It only hit him when he was crouching in the shower, exhausted, just how much he’d needed a break. And Andrew had looked him over and guessed it – he didn’t really take this long in the bathroom just to shower, Neil realised. That it was all a courtesy knocked the breath out of him.

He knew with clarity how much he wanted Andrew, body and soul, or however much he was allowed to have. 3 months apart had been rough when they’d been glued together for years before that and had been separated in the worst situation. The shower had softened and peeled away the callous around his heart, and the idea of pushing buttons just to feel something was distant and unrelatable. He bit down on the corner of a soft pillow as his heart rate picked up, breath hitching and body waking up again. None of the sensations he imagined to comfort himself were any good, so he trailed a hand down to his crotch and palmed himself lightly.

He gasped, curling in on himself. He was sensitive in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. A breeze or a graze of a finger could turn him on more, and even innocent thoughts quickly rolled into dirty, desperate visions of fucking into a tight fist, sucking fingers, bending over. He glanced at the bathroom door and strained to hear the handle turning, any sign of Andrew coming out. It was solemn and dignified, silent save for the quiet sound of the tap running. 

“Fuck,” Neil said, unwilling to touch himself without Andrew. He lay there, almost panting.

Waiting nearly killed him. It was probably just 5 minutes, but Neil couldn’t focus on anything except the buzz in his head and the way he wanted to rub his thighs together for some friction, any relief. He had been staring at the TV, but he had no idea what he’d just watched. Andrew found him there like that, trying to hide his own squirming by stuffing his face into the large, puffy pillows.

He didn’t even say anything, the asshole. He just looked at Neil very knowingly, then took his sweet time laying his knives out of his armbands on the dresser. He flicked the lamp on, bathing one side of the bed in a warm glow, and Neil saw then how dark his eyes were. A thrill zipped through him.

“Were you thinking about me?” he asked, hand reaching for Andrew’s wrist.

“I was thinking about finally stringing you up,” he said, voice low and rough. He seemed worked up.

“I was thinking about you too,” Neil said, grinning something evil. “I was thinking about you fucking me so hard I forget who I am.”

Andrew shut him up with a rough kiss. He let Neil pull him down to the bed, not breaking apart as he brought his hand to Neil’s chest where his heart was. He spread his wide palm over it, possessive and needy at once, leaving a scorching trail with his fingers up to Neil’s neck. When Neil moaned, he knew Andrew felt the vibrations with his fingers wrapped around his throat. He let his body tell Andrew all the things it wanted to do.

Given permission to touch everywhere, Neil pulled the towel off Andrew’s neck and wrapped his arm around the back of it, kissing him hard; he kissed him like he was giving all his secrets away again, painful insistence overlaying a quieter desperation. Losing himself in their rhythm was easy – each time Andrew kissed and licked into his mouth, he opened further. Each time he pulled back, Neil gave what he got and chased him for more, determined and ravening.

He got his wrists pinned down for a kiss that was a little too filthy, all because of his misbehaving tongue. The weight of Andrew on his arms sent a dizzying rush through him, becoming all the more head-spinning every time he pushed and only to be met with an unyielding weight. A groan escaped his throat, desperation having torn down his inhibitions long ago. 

“Andrew,” he panted, struggling.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked, making his question clear by pushing down on his wrists.

“Yes, fuck, of course.”

“Then behave,” Andrew said, breath fanning across Neil’s lips for a maddening second before he was gone.

He pulled off Neil, then flipped him round onto his stomach. Neil gasped as a calloused finger ran down his spine and pushed his shirt up, quickly replaced by a mouth. The tiny kisses being peppered down his back made him squirm, but he restrained himself so he wouldn’t jostle Andrew. When his mouth reached Neil’s tailbone, he finally snagged his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down.

Goosebumps broke out all down Neil’s legs. He shivered while those fingers ran circles around his ass and thighs, gasping when he felt thumbs pressing into the crease between his ass and thighs. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, pushing back up.

Andrew swatted his thigh, but let him push up into the touch for a second. He grabbed Neil’s hips and tugged lightly, so Neil pushed up onto his knees and placed the towel under himself. It was difficult, being in this position – nothing about sex truly came naturally to Neil, but he was with Andrew, who would never judge him for that. His blankness and lack of censure even in moments clouded by wild desires was exactly what Neil needed and loved, so he always tried to return that attitude to Andrew. Even on his knees, feeling somewhat self-conscious and amateurish, Neil breathed and made the decision to trust him.

“Good,” Andrew said, waiting him out with his hand on the small of his back. He sounded wrecked himself, and Neil wondered how he had spent so much time locked away in the bathroom.

Unable to help himself, Neil reached down to tug his hard cock for some relief. He was intercepted by Andrew, who shoved his hand off only to replace it with his own. The touch was rough and hard, only there to control. His fingers wrapped around the head and spread his pre-come, circling for a few tantalising seconds before retreating. He placed a kiss just under Neil’s hole.

“Don’t touch yourself.”

Neil whimpered.

Andrew kissed his ass and thighs, even though Neil didn’t really need to be worked up after the hour he spent twisting and turning on the bed. He finally brought some fingers up to Neil’s entrance, pushing down but not pushing in. He circled it with a finger, brushing down to his perineum and then his balls. Neil tried to contain his noises, but the touches had him leaking hard and feeling impossibly sensitive.

He withdrew, and Neil trembled with the sudden coolness and unfulfilled anticipation. While Andrew was warming the lube up with a finger, Neil drew in a weak breath and wriggled, helpless. With the first press of cold, slicked up fingers, Neil exhaled and pushed back. However, Andrew pulled back and refused to let him have it. Instead, he tilted Neil’s hips up further with his clean hand and rubbed his thighs up and down, breath gently fanning out over Neil’s overheated skin.

Neil wanted the fingers inside of him so bad it hurt. He tried not to let the frustration control him, but he could only contain it so much. He whined lowly and rolled his hips back, arching his spine and shifting his weight around on his knees.

“Andrew –” His voice was all choked up.

He felt fingers slide into his hair at the base of his neck, tugging for an electrifying, spine-tingling moment before releasing the hair and scratching his scalp. The hand slid back and forth between the small of his back and the nape of his neck, while the other one posed just above his hole, teasing and demanding Neil to be in control of himself if he wanted to reap the reward.

Neil knew this, but it was hard – there was a buzz in his head and the hot tears at the corner of his vision were confusing and distracting. His cock ached to be touched, while tingles erupted all over his body. The thing was, he knew what was being asked of him, but he had no idea what to do with all the pent up energy in his body, or all the confusing emotions. They poured out so easily when he brought his walls down, and he had no map or guidance or rules for them. They were just there, an irritating cloud like a scribbly ball of inexplicable suggestions. He wanted to let them go.

His mind was filled with images of all the bad things he could do if he listened to the whispers, the edges he could toe just enough that Andrew would be pissed enough to not give him a second’s break or pause after this. It was so tempting after months, years, of watching his steps to just misbehave when the only consequences were a hard fucking and Andrew keeping him on the edge with harsh words and stalled hands.

“Neil.”

He pulled on his own hair, needing clarity for a second. 

“Neil.” More insistent this time.

He tugged his hair a final time and stuffed his face into the pillow.

“Why can’t you just fuck me already? Jesus, Andrew, I’m here on my knees and shit. What do you want from me?”

The silence was tense. He dug his fingers into his scalp, hearing Andrew shifting behind him. For a second he was scared Andrew would pull his boxers back up and leave him shivering there, but his moment of brattiness hadn’t pushed that hard. 

“It’s like that, huh? You want to be fucked so bad, fucking work for it. Fix that attitude, then ask again.”

Neil groaned, somewhat exaggerated. Maybe he was pouting just a little bit too, but he didn’t let Andrew see in case it truly did piss him off. He should’ve figured he couldn’t hide in the pillows forever though, not at this point; bad behaviour was one thing when they were face-to-face, but after months apart and now hiding his face, it wasn’t acceptable. Andrew grasped his shoulder and pulled, wanting answers.

Neil had no words to explain his foolishness; he looked over his shoulder at Andrew, pleading. He wasn’t expecting Andrew to resolve his mess, and he was pretty sure it would make no difference to him if he left Neil to stew like this. Control and calm were what he was looking for, in the midst of tumbling down this dark place in his head.

He almost whimpered, but bit down hard on his lip, uncaring of the pain.

“Andrew,” he tried. The whine still coloured the edges of his voice, and he closed his eyes, knowing it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Control was slipping from his hands.

“Tell me what’s okay, Andrew. I need you to tell me what to do.”

Something dark passed over Andrew’s face briefly. Then his brow unfurrowed, and his eyes were considering.

“So trust me,” was all he said.

Neil’s mouth hung open.

“Trust me, Abram. Stop thinking so hard about this.” When Neil opened his mouth again, slanted and loaded with the sass Andrew usually loved, he was shut up by a silencing hand in the air. “Don’t. You’re going to take these boxers off, and then if you can be good and honest for once in your damn life, you’re going to hold your ass up in the air and not move. Otherwise I’m going to leave you to your problem by yourself.”

Every word went straight to Neil’s cock. He bit his lip and nodded, repeating ‘yes’ over and over as he shuffled out of his boxers. In seconds, he was face-down again, feeling somewhat ashamed and fully turned on. 

Andrew’s tone was much gentler when he spoke next. “Spread your legs.”

Neil did as he was told, wanting this to work. He was coming down from the panic and confusion from earlier, feeling shivers wracking his body and his cock leaking. He was twitching and ready again. Andrew leaned over him, speaking close to his ear.

“I’m going to finger you open now. If you want something else, you have to actually ask for it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Neil said. It sounded petulant even to his own ears.

“I know.”

“I want it bad, Andrew.”

“I know, Abram.”

“Mmngh,” he groaned into the pillow again. Looking down his body, he could see Andrew’s thighs between his own, pale where his were tanned, but both strong. Soon, his would be useless and liquified under Andrew’s careful hands, and the thought had him leaking even more. He squeezed his legs closer just slightly, and he knew Andrew felt the tensed muscles under his hands. He desperately wished he would just squeeze them, or leave hand-shaped marks on them.

“Control,” Andrew warned. His voice was dangerous.

Neil wanted to groan or whine, but he knew he was adding up enough misdemeanours by now. The tears came back to his eyes, but this time he was frustrated with himself. He exhaled, not wanting to ruin it for himself. If he could get through this, he could get it all out.

“Relax, Abram. Trust me now.”

“Okay,” he nodded, suppressing his bitterness. The feeling of letting go to Andrew, trusting him in this moment was so much better. It filled Neil’s chest and kept it from collapsing inwards. If Andrew trusted him enough to do this, Neil could do the same. He didn’t have to hate himself for anything here.

Andrew reapplied some lube to his fingers, circled them a few times around his entrance again to soothe him. He dipped a finger in just up to the tip, letting Neil appreciate the burn around his rim. His index finger moved in and out gently, while his other hand alternated between rubbing Neil’s cock and drawing circles on the insides of his thighs. 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“I love it, I want more,” Neil replied, mouth hanging open slightly. He dropped his head to the mattress, looking at Andrew from the corner of his eye; his view was tilted, but Andrew looked magnificent in the gloom, like a white and gold angel in the lamplight. His face was fierce with his darkened eyes and clenched jaw, and his dick sat hard and red by his stomach.

Neil gasped and moaned when the finger went deeper, finally, rubbing his walls as it moved. He felt his back sinking lower with each finger, fully arched by the time they got to 3 fingers and a rough, thrusting pace. The fingers fucking in and out of him ripped a moan out of him, long and low in the pillow while he shifted his weight on his knees. He bet Andrew was ready to just slide his dick in, knowing he was driving him crazy with the way he involuntarily clenched around his fingers.

He made his moans and whimpers louder just to drive him crazy.

“Ah, ah, ah, Andrew! Fuck, I’m ready.”

Andrew pulled his fingers out slowly and swatted the back of Neil’s thigh for his antics. Positioning his dick against Neil’s entrance, he slid in slowly, all in one go. The stroke was smooth and deep, and he let Neil adjust to the size and thick, velvety feel before moving (it had been several months, after all).

He started off slow, clearly enjoying how Neil was so sensitive that the slow rock of Andrew’s hips had him moaning. There was no resistance, not with the amount of lube and time spent working Neil open to relax him. But Neil knew it was hot and tight, knew the way he clenched and the way the sight of his tilted back and shoulders always got to Andrew fast – he had admitted as much himself.

He pushed his hips back to meet the long strokes. He was wilder than Andrew with it, much less restrained, and he got his hips squeezed in a controlling grip for it. Andrew’s thumbs dug into the small dimples at the base of Neil’s spine, and he snapped his hips harder and faster, using the grip to push Neil down harder. He spread his legs wider to bear the weight while his hips were being pulled and pushed. Everything devolved into a rapid tempo – hips slapped, breath shortened, and the momentum rocked them back and forth. Any bed other than this luxurious one would have creaked.

Andrew huffed, leaning down to drape himself across Neil’s back. He traced Neil’s scars over his stomach, turning his head to place a kiss between his shoulder blades. The soft touches paired with the hard, rhythmic thrusts drove Neil insane in all the best ways, something new to focus on every time his attention shifted. His cock was leaking all over the place, but he waited with his eyes closed, knowing that hand on his stomach was slowly moving down.

Even with the anticipation, he felt unprepared for white-hot rush that came when Andrew jerked his cock hard. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he babbled, hips jerking and hole clenching.

Andrew groaned again, much louder than before. His hips stuttered for a moment as his breath hitched, but resumed their pace. They were both close to the edge, fraying and unraveling as they hurtled towards the fall together.

“Neil – fuck – let go, come.”

Andrew’s voice, gravelly and just barely clinging to composure, sent him apart. He rolled his hips and ground them back into Andrew, and the combined feeling of his cock being tugged with his prostate being slammed sent him into an orgasm. His whole body clenched, and it nearly hurt, but the release sent him all the way up to levels he had never known. For a few seconds, everything was perfect, and nothing existed except this beautiful feeling.

Ears ringing, eyes sealed shut with tears and exhaustion, Neil came back down to the feeling of Andrew orgasming inside of him. Coming down, he was further undone with bliss; it was the sound of Andrew moaning while his pace faltered and lurched, the way it was the most desperate and unhinged it had been all night, combined with the heat of Andrew’s release which culminated and pitched Neil up into a place of pure bliss in his head.

He was shuddering apart with the aftershocks of his own orgasm and all of Andrew’s sensations, soft brushes and squeezes to his hips, hands in his hair to lay him down on his side. He didn’t feel Andrew pull out, but he felt the dip in the bed behind him and the choppy breaths of his partner on the back of his neck. He was grateful, again – he had space to come down, but there was no real distance between them. He didn’t need to worry anymore, because Andrew was right there with him, going through the same feelings.

He held his hand up, and found Andrew’s up in the air. They held tight to each other until everything cooled and the events of the night hit them. Before he could knock out and fall asleep, Andrew grabbed a wad of tissues before he pulled out. He came back with a fresh towel for Neil and brought the other one to the laundry bin in the bathroom.

Not wanting to be completely useless, Neil got up and brought them both some water, turning the AC off as he came back with slow, shuffling steps. He climbed into bed with Andrew, feeling floaty and lightweight, especially with the softness of the luxurious bed enveloping him. They lay facing each other in the dark, dim light from the streetlamps reflecting onto the ceiling of the room. 

“Thank you,” Neil whispered, even though he knew Andrew didn’t want to be thanked. He still made every effort to show his gratitude though.

Andrew’s eyes fell shut, but he brought their hands together between them.

Neil placed a tender kiss on his knuckles before closing his own eyes. The smile on his face wouldn’t go away, and Andrew huffed when he noticed, fingers tracing Neil’s lips.

“Idiot,” he said. “Go to sleep.”

And Neil did, finally drifting into peaceful sleep full of hazel eyes, soft light, and two strong hands – one tanned and scarred and the other pale and bruised over the knuckles – clasped together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> tumblr: nightlyvoidforecast.tumblr.com  
> twitter: twitter.com/knightspacejam


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